


Blue for you

by shovel_bunny



Category: The Eagle | The Eagle of the Ninth (2011)
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Misunderstandings, Resolved Sexual Tension, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 19:59:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9400811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shovel_bunny/pseuds/shovel_bunny
Summary: Esca gets a tattoo to commemorate the return of the Eagle and Marcus gets a pleasant surprise.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally a fill for a prompt on The Eagle Kinkmeme, which I then posted on LiveJournal (remember that ;-) ) And then, to be completely honest, I forgot all about it until I found it in a folder on my computer when I was trying to clean up a bit and maybe get some inspiration to continue some WIPs. So here it is, my contribution to this fandom.

Lying face down and naked from the waist up on the low bench in the dingy back room of the tavern, Esca feels the tiny pinpricks, barely noticeable at the moment but which he knows will coalesce into flaring pain in his back and shoulders like a wildfire before long. He can hear the wizened man who bends over his back and inflicts this slow torture upon his skin muttering under his breath as he works but not even the joy of hearing another speak in the familiar accent and dialect of his home can distract from the pain to come.

‘Try not to tense up so Esca, it will not ease the pain and it will distort the design.’

Esca tries to force his muscles to relax and keeps the vituperative reply safely in his head; it is not wise to irritate the fellow who is permanently marking your skin, especially if it’s done in an area where you cannot keep an eye on what he’s inking. Instead he tries to control his breathing and silently curses Marcus Flavius Aquila and every other Roman who ever lived, using his anger to distract himself from flinching away from every stab of the fine iron needle.

Despite his carefully constructed reasoning, Esca is honest enough with himself to know that he wouldn’t be here doing this if it weren’t for Marcus. Equally he knows that had he not recognised the craftsman’s distinctive accent as from an area so close to his own he would never have entertained the idea of another skin marking. Not even for Marcus would he have had some dense southerner’s idea of a design etched onto him, but the chance meeting with a skilled northerner who would know the proper traditions, passing through Calleva was not likely to be repeated; so Esca hadn’t hesitated but paid the old grey hair every coin he has managed to save and explained what he wanted.

As the pain flares up Esca closes his eyes grits his teeth and remembers that this will be worth it when its over, when the skin is healed and he can reveal to the centurion what he has done. He tries to imagine what Marcus’ face will look like when he first sees it and has a sudden uncharacteristic moment of uncertainty and panic that freezes his muscles and spikes the pain, making his breath hiss through his teeth and causing an annoyed tutting from above. He is almost beginning to regret requesting such a large design.

Marcus has always seemed fascinated by Esca’s arm markings, looking at them when he thinks Esca will not notice, as though he doesn’t realise that Esca can feel the heavy weight of his gaze stroking over his skin as clearly as if it were those large calloused hands on him. But he has never actually spoken of them, never asked about them or their meanings. Perhaps he thinks that it is too personal, that Esca will not wish to discuss such things with a Roman. Or perhaps he is truly so obtuse that he does not realise they have meanings and thinks that Esca is vain enough to have had them put there simply for decorative purposes. That last is unlikely though; Marcus may be brawny and occasionally given to opening his mouth before he thinks, but he has a quiet intelligence that its risky to underestimate – although Esca has to admit that he can on occasion be incredibly dense or seem to be. He is almost certain that the Roman looks on him with desire but the way that Marcus has been ignoring Esca’s own heated looks and increasingly unsubtle hints suggest that either Marcus is completely oblivious or that he is deliberately avoiding the idea that Esca might want more from their newly altered relationship than they are currently sharing.

Esca wouldn’t be surprised if that were true. He is well aware of how traditional Roman values view sexual relationships between men without the safety and clearly defined boundaries of ownership between them, and he can all too easily imagine Marcus deliberately refusing to acknowledge Esca’s desires and his own for the sake of some sort of warped Roman notion of morality. 

He feels his resentment of Aquila rise up so suddenly and sharply that it nearly chokes him. The centurion embodies everything that a good Roman should be with his physical strength and beauty, bravery, pride and virtue and stubbornness to the point of stupidity on occasion. There are times when Esca is so confused and frustrated by his feelings for the Roman that he could beat the man bloody and still not be satisfied. Aquila is like one of those statues in the temple, perfect and out of reach. Esca would be lying to himself if he didn’t admit that part of his desire for Aquila is a need to destroy that image, to sully the perfection and break the centurion, to put his own mark there and strip everything that is Rome away leaving just the man behind so that Esca can give in to his needs without feeling that he is betraying himself. Britain is not Rome, she shapes men to her own ways and Esca can’t believe that Aquila doesn’t realise this after all they have been through north of the wall. He knows that the bonds that tie them together now, forged in the heat of such danger and hardship, in the face of death and despair, cannot be broken. They are far stronger than Rome and the chains of slavery could ever be. Rome’s hold on Aquila slips a little more with every day he spends here.

Abruptly he feels the old man lean back and wipe a cloth gently over his back.

‘My hands are starting to cramp and my back aches, I must rest for a few minutes, but you should be pleased, we are at least halfway done already.’

Esca raises his head unsteadily and glares at his fellow northerner in disbelief, not trusting himself to speak as he flinches and raises himself to a sitting position. Only his pride keeps him from weeping at the thought that he has all that to go through again. He snatches the skin from the floor and raises it to his mouth swallowing deeply, ignoring the abysmal taste of the cheap rough local spirit and praying that if he drinks enough it will dull the pain to come. 

All too soon he is being eased back down to his front and realises that he hasn’t drunk nearly enough. As he looks around the grotty little room they are closeted away in, Esca cannot help but contrast this sad lonely almost furtive act with the last time he had undergone this particular infliction of pain. He had just returned from his first successful horse raid and the whole village had celebrated. Sinking into his memories he can almost smell the smoke from the bonfire, hear the raucous shouts and singing from his fellow warriors and youths, see them dancing wildly, drunkenly, spinning faster and faster, arms outstretched and long hair streaming wildly. He can hear sudden shrieks of laughter as someone with more drink than sense tries the obligatory fireleap and misjudges. It is so vivid in his mind’s eye and the stabbing pain so familiar that when he closes his eyes he can almost forget where he is and what he’s having inscribed forever across his back and shoulders. Strangely for a brief moment despite or perhaps because of the pain he is almost content.

It doesn’t last for long though as the pain makes its way through the haze of alcohol again and he knows that whatever their druid used to add to the mead on such occasions previously had dulled his senses. It had certainly not been this painful in the past or he might have thought twice about this. A wave of longing and despair sweeps over him so strong that he doesn’t even try to fight it; just remembers his tribe and his family and all that is now lost to him forever. He returns to cursing Rome and all Romans and uses his anger again to bolster himself.

By the time the design is completed Esca can barely stand unaided and although it’s only his upper back that has been inked the whole of his back feels aflame. In fond amusement the old man waves away Esca's gasped thanks and insists on pressing another half full skin, of unwatered wine this time, on him for the journey home. He also smears a thick salve over Esca's abused skin and gives him more with instructions to use it daily before helping him out and onto his horse. As he slumps in the saddle Esca can only give thanks to all the gods that he had the foresight to ride into town today.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Marcus has been alternately worried and furious all day since Esca disappeared before anyone else was up this morning with not a word to anyone. In truth Marcus knows that now that Esca is no longer his slave he has no right to expect to know what the smaller man is doing every minute of every day, but it wasn’t like Esca not to let someone know his whereabouts out of politeness if nothing else. He sighed and grumbled under his breath as he forced himself to move away from the window, refusing to acknowledge that he is moping and looking out for Esca’s return. 

Dropping onto a bench he ran again over the things that Esca could have been doing all day on his own. Hunting? Possibly, but he usually asked Marcus if he wanted to join him, so probably not. In that case, he’d likely gone into Calleva. Marcus frowned, there were any number of things that Esca could be doing in the town that he would not want company for. 

Esca had initially seemed content with this pleasant quiet interlude in their lives but Marcus wasn’t entirely certain why the Briton continued to stay on. He knew that Esca’s fierce sense of honour and his vow to Marcus had made him stay with him and help him through the nightmare north of the wall, when everything in his heart and soul must have made him long to abandon him and run to join those free tribes. But now Esca was free and Marcus had tried to make him understand that as far as they were concerned that meant true freedom, he could stay or leave as he wished, so there was no longer any compelling reason for Esca to stay. 

Perhaps he had grown bored and frustrated with waiting here at the villa while Marcus awaited word from Rome. Perhaps he had finally made up his mind to move on with his own life and was in town making arrangements to leave. Marcus felt his chest tighten as he considered this possibility; Esca had certainly seemed frustrated lately, almost vibrating with tension whenever they were alone together. Thinking through this he considered the possibility that Esca was visiting the town brothel to help relieve himself of tension in this way, a common enough occurrence in barracks life for Marcus to be familiar with it. His chest tightened even further at the idea. 

Continuing this train of thought he arrived at the possibility that Esca might be in town visiting not a whore for a single days pleasure, but courting a respectable woman. Plenty of the unmarried womenfolk in Calleva had been trying to catch the young Briton’s eye lately, though Esca had shown no obvious interest in any of them. Marcus’ chest was painfully tight now and he was barely breathing as he shot to his feet with a growl and began to storm back to the window. The sound of hooves approaching outside sent him stalking to the door instead.

Esca was indeed approaching through the gloom, his horse ambling along, reins trailing loosely over its neck and rider slumped forward in a manner completely unfamiliar to Marcus. Esca normally rode as he did everything, neatly and elegantly with an expertise and economy of motion that Marcus envied greatly. As the horse came nearer Marcus reached out and grabbed the reins bringing the animal to an abrupt halt that nearly unseated its rider. Esca grabbed at its mane in a most undignified manner before sitting up and looking around blearily. An empty wineskin dropped from his hands as he leaned forward to peer unsteadily at Marcus. He opened his mouth to speak and Marcus was hit with a gust of sour wine on his breath. 

‘Ugh, you’re drunk.’ Marcus stated the obvious and flinched as soon as the words left his mouth, aware that he sounded like a nagging wife. If he hadn’t spent the day fretting he might have been amused, he’d never seen Esca the worse for drink before, the Briton was normally so controlled.

Reacting to the offended and disapproving tone of his voice Esca immediately straightened in his saddle and glared down at him, the faint trace of a smile that had been forming at one corner of his mouth when he recognised Marcus disappearing.

‘I might be, but that’s no business of yours.’ Esca glowered down at him and then studiously ignored him as he began to dismount. His usual grace deserted him and he would have fallen if Marcus hadn’t caught him on the way down. A pained screech was his only thanks as Esca tried desperately to struggle out of his arms.

‘Gods, Esca stop it. Enough, I’ll let go. There, I was only trying to help,’ Marcus tried to mollify the panting glaring Briton as Esca spat what sounded like particularly vile British curses at him.

‘Have you hurt your back? Did you fall? Let me look, maybe I can help,’ Marcus stepped towards Esca and then stopped abruptly as Esca put his hand out and backed away, a look of panic on his face.

‘Stop, no, don’t touch me.’ 

‘Very well,’ Marcus could hear the anger in his own voice and felt a small stab of victory as Esca winced. He saw the smaller man start to move forward but all the frustration of the day welled up and he turned grabbing the reins to lead the horse away.

‘I’ll see to the horse, you see to yourself. I will no doubt see you tomorrow sometime.’

He didn't look back as he led the horse off to the stables and so he didn't see Esca standing with his hand out and his mouth open as though to explain. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Esca runs his hands over as much of the skin on his upper back and shoulders as he can reach and is pleased when although still sensitive there is no pain. Good enough that today can be the day. He will have to remember to leave an offering for the local goddess at the nearby spring in thanks for such swift healing but for now he needs to find Marcus. Easier said than done, when the Roman had been going out of his way to avoid Esca since the rather unfortunate incident several nights ago. 

He was still rather annoyed about that if he was honest with himself. Marcus’ reaction seemed unduly disproportionate even given that Esca had been very drunk when he had finally made it back to the villa. He had woken the next day feeling as though he would be better off dead. His head pounded as though Marcus was hitting it with the hilt of his sword repeatedly with all of his strength, while his back simply burned all over and he spent the morning alternately sleeping fitfully and retching whilst being by turns furious with Marcus for being unreasonable and himself for hurting Marcus and caring about it.

The day after that he was still feeling a little tender and carried out his normal duties with the minimum of interaction with the other residents of the villa. So it wasn't until the third day that he realised that Marcus was deliberately avoiding him. At first he was surprised and then annoyed that Marcus should be behaving so childishly. His first instinct was to track the foolish Roman down and force a confrontation to clear the air. Then as his back twinged and he thought of all the previous times he and Marcus had argued and how that usually ended, he thought better of it. He would bide his time until his back was healed and then they could fight all they liked. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Esca tried all Marcus’ usual haunts and had resorted to asking the slaves when he saw his former master heading towards him. Marcus evidently hadn’t seen him for as soon as he did he changed direction and headed towards the bathhouse instead. Muttering under his breath, Esca squared his shoulders and set off in pursuit, ignoring the slaves who didn’t bother trying to hide their amusement.

Entering the bathhouse he sighed grimly, at least he had Marcus trapped in here with no other way out. Marcus was sitting on a bench removing his sandals when he cornered him.

‘You are avoiding me Marcus and I would know why,’ Esca knew that his bluntness still tended to discomfit the Roman and that it might needle a response from him.

Marcus looked up and opened his mouth, as though to deny Esca’s bald statement, but then flushed and dropped his gaze back to his feet. Esca didn’t move and didn’t say anything else. Marcus would give first as he always did.

Still looking at the floor Marcus replied after a long moment, ‘I was angry with you and then with myself and then I was ashamed.’

‘I don’t understand why you were angry with me. Is there something I have misunderstood about being a freedman? Must I still tell you all my plans and ask permission before I go into Calleva? Were you afraid that because I was drunk I would do something to embarrass you or your uncle in town?’ Esca still hasn’t moved and he’s getting bored with looking at the top of Marcus’ head. His words sting Marcus into action though; the bigger man springs to his feet and grasps Esca’s shoulder, a concerned expression on his face.

‘No. No. You owe me no explanations. You are free to do as you wish of course.’ The flush on his cheeks deepens and interestingly begins to spread down his neck distracting Esca’s eyes and his concentration. ‘It is only that I did not know where you were and I was concerned for your safety.’

Esca scoffs at such a ridiculous statement. ‘I can look after myself well enough Roman, as well you ought to know.’

‘Yes, yes, I know it better than any other,’ Marcus makes strange little calming motions with his hands, as though Esca is a wild beast that needs to be tamed, ‘I told you that I was ashamed and I meant it.’

‘You are foolish.’ Esca is somewhat placated and it must show on his face for Marcus no longer looks as anxious and a broad smile sweeps across his face crinkling his eyes at the corners.

‘I am. Now that we have confirmed my foolishness, will you join me in bathing?’

Esca can barely restrain his glee at being offered such an opportunity so easily, but he keeps his face impassive, shrugs a shoulder in acquiescence and sits to begin stripping his clothes. Marcus seems absurdly relieved that all appears forgiven so swiftly, he is quickly naked, folding his clothes neatly and striding off towards the sunken pool. 

Esca smiles to himself, admiring the view of Marcus’ firm muscular back and arse as he lowers himself into the water with his back to him. He feels a slight nervous sweat spring up over his body as he continues to disrobe. Marcus’ avoidance has allowed him to keep his secret with surprising ease and he’s torn between wanting to see the centurion’s reaction and fear that he has misjudged this whole business and that Marcus will be disgusted. Gritting his teeth he rises from the bench and strides with a confidence he doesn’t quite feel over to the bath. 

Esca steps down into the pool facing Marcus who smiles at him. Ensuring that the centurion’s eyes are firmly fixed on him Esca lets the corner of his mouth twitch up as he slides entirely under the water and comes up with his back towards him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Marcus sinks into the pleasantly warm water until it laps just below his shoulders and waits for Esca to join him, sighing in relief and letting his tense muscles relax. Although he hadn’t initially been planning on bathing it now seems like a wonderful idea; he’d had no idea just how apprehensive he had been about talking to Esca since he’d made a fool of himself the other night. When he’d woken the next morning he had groaned and cursed himself up and down for overreacting like an outraged maiden. Concerned about the way all sense seemed to abandon him around his former slave, Marcus had decided to try and keep his distance for a few days to calm his nerves. Instead it had entirely the opposite effect. But he should have known that Esca would force the matter into the open and now the air is cleared.

He hears Esca’s footsteps approaching and lowers his eyes to the water determined not to let his eyes linger on the sleek beautiful lines of the freedman’s body as he enters the pool. He knows that despite his efforts his face is flushing once again at the thought of Esca’s nakedness nearby and can only hope that this won’t be the time his body betrays him and shows Esca just how badly he desires him, despite his shame at such lust. Once he’s sure most of Esca is in the pool Marcus raises his eyes straight to the Briton’s face. Esca’s eyes lock onto his instantly as Marcus smiles at him and there’s a strangely determined expression fixed there. Marcus feels his spirits start to deflate again; perhaps all is not yet forgiven and Esca is going to make him suffer for his childish behaviour now. He opens his mouth to speak just as Esca’s mouth turns up at one corner and he slides entirely under the water.

When Esca surfaces with his back to him, Marcus can feel his jaw drop open as all the blood in his body rushes to his cock so fast that the air is forced from his lungs in a harsh startled gasp. He clings to the wall of the pool to try and ground himself but all he can do is stare and stare and stare dazed at Esca’s back.

Water trails down from Esca’s hair and runs in rivulets over the incredibly beautiful elaborate new tattoo that covers his entire upper back and shoulder blades in blue. Marcus watches Esca’s muscles tense making the wings of the stylised but instantly recognisable eagle shift and shiver. The Roman’s eyes get lost as he tries to follow the intricately detailed swirling patterns and knots within the eagle’s body which somehow also twist to form the outline of an eagle in flight, wings outstretched, tail fanned and head slightly turned so that its open beak can be seen as it screams a challenge.

Esca’s head abruptly turns to look back over his shoulder at him and from the disconcertingly vulnerable look on his face Marcus realises that it’s been long minutes since Esca surfaced and he has yet to speak. 

‘Esca…Esca.’ There are no other words, he cannot think anything but Esca. He realises that it must be enough, for Esca’s eyes widen and a tight wolfish hungry smile is his response as he suddenly slips lower in the water. Marcus can't bear to let Esca hide the marking from him; in a haze of lust so thick that he can barely coordinate his limbs he crosses the pool to grasp Esca by the shoulders and haul him bodily back up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When he surfaces from the pool with his back to Marcus, Esca has his eyes tightly closed and he grips the edge of the pool so hard that he thinks the tessarae might well come away in his hands. From behind he hears a startled gasp…and then nothing.

He waits stiffly, for something, anything, some sort of response from the centurion. The muscles in his shoulders and back spasm from being tensed so long and after another long moment he has to know. Taking a deep breath he turns his head to peer over his shoulder at the Roman.

Marcus’ mouth forms a soft delicious O of surprise; his eyes are wide and dark and Esca has never seen such a look of pure unadulterated desperate lust on anyone’s face. The larger man’s chest heaves with panting breaths, when he speaks it’s in a low hoarse growl and when he raises his gaze from the marking on Esca’s back to meet his eyes, Esca feels the searing heat of it run down through his body towards his groin so swiftly that it steals the strength from his legs and he slips clumsily down into the pool.

Marcus’ large strong hands seize his shoulders in a grasp so firm that there will surely be bruises tomorrow. Marcus raises him until his back is clear of the water and then steps back still holding his shoulders; Esca can almost feel the heated gaze sweeping again over his newly inked skin. The Roman pants in rough moist gusts that Esca can feel against the back of his neck, making the small hairs there stand up and sending a shiver down his spine that Marcus must feel too.

‘Esca…its…’ Marcus trails off with a groan and suddenly presses the entire length of his body against Esca, allowing the smaller man to feel exactly how this has affected him. Esca cannot swallow his own groan as he feels the length of Marcus’s hard cock driven firmly against the small of his back. Nor can he help the wide grin that stretches across his face. At last he has broken through Marcus’ proud stoic Roman sensibilities, and the force of that passion which he has seen most often in displays of anger and violence, is finally being put to its proper use. He pushes back just a little against the centurion and is rewarded when Marcus thrusts involuntarily against him with a small cry.

‘Marcus,’ he huffs in a soft half laugh, ‘Marcus, I cannot breathe.’ He can almost hear his ribs creaking from the force of the larger man’s body crushing him against the wall of the pool. The pressure against his back eases slightly and Esca uses the opportunity to turn swiftly so that now they are pressed together face to face and Marcus can feel Esca’s own arousal, know that he too is just as affected, just as needy. He looks up at Marcus and the breath is stolen from his lungs by the desperate look in the Roman’s eyes. Esca surges up to finally; finally bring their mouths together because he cannot wait any longer. The kiss is hard and fierce and demanding as lips and teeth and tongues clash together, vying for dominance in this as in everything.

When Marcus finally pulls back gasping for air, Esca can feel the throb of his cock where it now presses against his stomach, pulsing with the blood which is surging through it with every beat of his heart. Marcus’ hands have crept back to Esca’s tattoo during the kiss but now they slide lower to grasp his arse and raise Esca against the wall until they are perfectly aligned. At the first rub of their cocks over one another it is Esca’s turn to growl. He wraps his legs around Marcus and leans up to sink his teeth into his neck and drive his nails into his back in a primitive urge that is purely take and mark. Marcus lets out an unbelievably erotic noise, half moan, half whimper; his face almost wild with the need for this and Esca knows that neither of them will last long. His hand moves to wrap around their cocks only to find that Marcus’ hand is also there and together they grasp and pull, hips driving against one another, working together to drive themselves towards climax. Esca is dimly aware in the back of his mind of the pain that is the hard edge of the pool being driven into his back as Marcus grinds them against it, but the rush of ecstasy that is finally having Marcus let loose upon him drives it so far into the background that it is only a dim counterpoint to the rising bliss. Every muscle in Marcus' body tenses as he comes against Esca's belly and over their joined hands, his head thrown back, neck shaking as he shouts a wordless cry of joy. It is too much for Esca, the feel of blood hot fluid against his skin, the sound of the cry in his ears and the sight of the strong column of Marcus' throat with his teeth marks clearly visible. He buries his face against that neck as he follows Marcus over the edge, muffling his own cry there and then pressing his lips to the wildly beating pulse he can feel. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Marcus realises that disappointment is probably written large over his face when Esca turns back from lowering his tunic over the eagle marking and rolls his eyes at him. ‘Hurry, then,’ is the Briton’s only response and Marcus grins, knowing that Esca sees right through him as usual. He pulls his own clothes hurriedly back over his still damp skin so that they can move to somewhere they are less likely to be disturbed.

Esca lies face down and naked on Marcus’ bed, head pillowed on his arms while Marcus stands at its foot admiring the remarkable image laid out before him, burning it into his memory, until Esca growls at him in impatience. Marcus climbs onto the bed and lays himself out on his side, pressed against Esca, head propped on an elbow as he gazes down at the tattoo and raises the other hand to trace over it reverently. Now that their initial lust has been sated, Marcus wants to take his time and explore.

‘Tell me, Esca,’ he says quietly. For long moments there is no reply and he thinks that he may have to ask again, be more specific, when he hears Esca take a deep breath and his patience is rewarded.

‘My people have always inked our skin to mark important events in our lives,’ he begins and the deep sadness and longing in his voice almost make Marcus wish he had not asked this. ‘They serve as a reminder to the person who is marked and they tell a story to others who know enough to understand them.’ He pauses to smile fiercely up at Marcus, ‘the bands on my arms tell of killing my first enemies and my first horse raid.’

Esca’s breath hisses through his teeth as Marcus’ large blunt fingers travel to his right bicep and outline the details of the uppermost band and the identical third band. ‘They tell of the two men I killed when another tribe raided my village while my father was away with many of our warriors. I fought side by side with my brothers, though I was not old enough to be a spear; it was over very quickly for they had not sent many men and hoped to take us by surprise,’ Esca makes a rude noise and pulls his face, ‘I was little more than a child and my father was both furious and so proud when he returned.’ His face is blank but his eyes are squeezed tightly shut at the memories; Marcus is afraid to speak for fear that he will stop. Esca rarely speaks of his past and he fears that trying to offer comfort will break the spell and cause the smaller man to retreat into silence again.

‘The middle band tells of my first horse raid, we raided the lands of the Corieltauvi, to the south of our own, and took many fine mares. There was a great celebration in our village afterwards and I remember thinking that life could have nothing finer to offer.’ His eyes open again, a hint of a smile on his face as he remembers and his hands clench and relax as Marcus presses his fingers firmly against the blue ink. ‘The lines, blocks and circles tell the tale, to a member of my tribe or those nearby it would all be clear.’

Marcus trails his hand over pale skin to the new marking and feels Esca shudder as he reaches it. ‘Did it hurt? Does it still hurt?’ 

‘Yes,’ Esca glares up at him, ‘it hurt but now, no, it is just very sensitive.’ 

Marcus raises an eyebrow at this information and continues to trace the eagle. Esca moans and Marcus is delighted to see a faint red tinge to his cheek. He lets his fingers follow the outline of the eagle from its open beak around the wings to its tail and back again. ‘So, why the eagle?’

Esca gives him a look that, even with only half of his face visible, expresses more eloquently than any number of words could, that Marcus is an idiot. ‘There is not likely to be an event more significant to my life now than the recovery of your lost idol.’ Marcus feels a surge of warmth that Esca should have marked himself in this way, with a symbol that is so heavily bound up with him. Before he can speak, Esca continues.

‘To my people the eagle is a powerful creature; it symbolises wisdom and long life. Eagles feature in many of our tales, they represent swiftness, strength and keen sight – they are said to be able to see hidden truths,’ Esca turns his head to look at Marcus steadily, ‘it seemed appropriate as you so clearly needed help to see what was so obviously in front of you.’ 

Marcus thinks he should probably be offended but given that Esca is lying in his bed he cannot bring himself to care. He bends his head and presses his mouth to a particularly complicated knot in the centre of the eagle. Esca gasps and arches into the touch; this time when he speaks his voice is a low sensual rasp that fires Marcus’ nerves.

‘That represents trust,’ Marcus raises his head to peer more closely at the design before lowering to taste and trace it with his tongue. Esca buries his face in the bed and when Marcus moves on to another pattern within the marking his voice is muffled as he tells Marcus it’s meaning. Soon Esca is panting for breath and from the way he is moving against the bed Marcus knows that he is as hard again as Marcus is. He slides a hand down over Esca’s lower back and over his arse, squeezing as he goes, making the Briton thrust against the bed, before he slides it between his thighs to spread them wider. Marcus moves to kneel between Esca’s thighs and then spreads himself across the top of the smaller man, until his head and hands once again have access to the tattoo. He finds another pattern within the larger design and then another, lavishing attention on them with hands and mouth as Esca writhes beneath him and gasps their meanings. Loyalty, pride, strength, honour…there are many and Marcus knows that he has not the wit to understand all that it means now, when he can barely think at all beyond the desire that is burning him from the inside out. He reaches to grasp Esca’s hair and draw his head back for a heated kiss. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Esca’s mouth is firm, the slightly cracked lips part when Marcus licks over them and then thrusts his tongue into the wet heat inside. Esca slides his own tongue along Marcus’, teasing and then sucking in a way that seems to connect directly to Marcus’ cock. He thrusts involuntarily and feels his cock slide into the cleft of Esca’s delicious arse, the light sheen of sweat over both their bodies easing its path. Esca makes a noise deep in his throat and Marcus pulls away worried that he doesn’t like it but instead Esca grins up at Marcus and pushes his hips back up at him, demanding more. ‘Yes Marcus, there, like that.’

Marcus would be embarrassed by the whimper that escapes him but he is too wrapped up in Esca, how he smells and tastes and feels moving beneath him. His hands roam over Esca’s body enjoying the feel of the muscular form, the different textures of his skin until they finish travelling up Esca’s forearms to meet his hands, still held by his head and grasp them there. Esca slides his fingers between Marcus’ and turns his head so that his mouth is pressed close to Marcus’ ear. He is groaning and growling in his own language and Marcus can only imagine what filthy encouragements he is whispering as his hips keep up a slow rolling rhythm. Esca’s tongue sneaks out to trace along the outline of Marcus’ ear and then suddenly dips inside making Marcus shout and freeze lest he spill himself right now. ‘Esca,’ he gasps and gets a wicked wicked smile in return. 

‘Now Marcus, please?’ Esca guides their joined hands down to where Marcus’ cock is nestled snugly, throbbing and demanding that he begin to move once more. Marcus yelps as their hands rub against him and Esca tries to guide his fingers to where he wants them. 

Esca moans softly as Marcus’ fingers tease him, canting his hips backwards, trying to hurry him. Marcus brings his fingers to his mouth to wet them but Esca magically produces a flask of oil he had slyly swiped from the bathhouse earlier and despite his hands shaking with arousal Marcus manages to coat his fingers. He wants to take his time, tease Esca, make this last, but as Esca pushes back and his finger is suddenly encased in tightness and heat, he knows that he hasn’t a hope of lasting long. Marcus hears himself moaning at the feel of his finger sliding in and out and he can hear Esca moaning too, asking for more. He slides another finger inside for a few strokes but Esca is too impatient, turning his head and fixing Marcus with a steely glare to demand that he get on with it.

Reaching down to coat his cock with oil, Marcus tries to calm himself but the sight of Esca undulating against the bed, turning pleading heavy lidded eyes towards him, only spirals his desire higher. Marcus slides his hands down to Esca’s hips, urging them higher, giving him a better angle and then finally presses in, feeling the tight grip and slide as he inches deeper and Esca’s cries and gasps are driving him on until he’s as deep as he can get, balls pressed against Esca’s arse as he stops and tries not to come instantly.

Esca barely gives him a moment before he starts moving, trying to take control, ‘Move, I need to feel you, need this.’ Marcus tightens his grip and thrusts hard, trying to give Esca what he needs and taking his own pleasure, letting his own need drive his hips. In the background of his pulse hammering in his ears he can hear himself panting, hear Esca crying out with each punishing slap of their bodies together and suddenly it’s not quite enough. He needs to feel more, more of Esca and so he leans forward and reaches for Esca’s shoulders, dragging him upright so that Marcus is kneeling with Esca in his lap and he can reach around and thumb at his nipples, making him moan and arch. He slides a hand down over Esca’s stomach and grasps his leaking cock with a twist that makes Esca yell.

Marcus is so close now, driving up into Esca and Esca is moving with him, against him, pushing his cock into Marcus’ hand, reaching back to grab at Marcus’ head, drag him down for desperate biting kisses until he finds that spot on Marcus’ neck again and Marcus can’t help himself, thrusting up shaking and crying Esca’s name as he comes. Esca’s body tightens and clenches around him, his head thrown back on Marcus’ shoulder as his mouth opens in a silent cry and his cock pulses, shooting heat over his own belly. Still breathing heavily, Marcus tightens his arms around the smaller man as he eases out and lowers them back down to the bed, stretching out, pressing kisses to the top of Esca’s head and refusing to let go just yet. Lying in the Roman’s arms, Esca feels a wide weary smile spread across his face and settle in to stay.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Esca lies sprawled out, his head is turned away from Marcus, but he can still feel the gentle huffs of breath against his hair on the back of his head as the sleeping man snores softly. Marcus has a leg thrown over Esca and his hand placed firmly against the eagle on Esca’s back Esca grimaces slightly; he can’t sleep, keeps waking, unnerved by the proximity to another person after so long sleeping alone.

He feels unsettled, discomfited, the earlier exhilaration and elation has slowly dissipated and as Marcus’ hand twitches on his back he is suddenly irritated by the man’s infatuation with the tattoo, despite knowing that its irrational, that this is what he wanted, that the marking has served its purpose and more. 

He is still confused, conflicted by his feelings for the Roman, by the bone deep longing and desire, the strength of this bond between them, when he half feels he should still be angry, full of hatred, resentment and a desire for vengeance. He feels as though he is lying with the enemy, as though he is betraying the memory of his family. And yet he cannot regret this, can no longer find that deep abiding rage that has sustained him for so long. His family are gone, there is nothing he can do to bring them back and being angry with Marcus and his uncle and their little household here will not help.

He isn’t sure that he has really managed to convey the full meaning of the eagle marking to Marcus, but then he was somewhat distracted at the time; a smug smile creeps onto his face as he remembers. The eagle is such a powerful symbol to the Romans, he remembers Marcus describing it by their campfire beyond the wall. ‘The eagle is not a piece of metal. The eagle is Rome.’ He remembers being stunned that Marcus didn’t realise what the eagle of Rome would symbolise to Esca and his people, remembers the tense silence that night as their differences seemed so much greater than could ever be overcome.

There had really been no other choice for the tattoo, to mark this latest change to Esca’s life, and yet by choosing these designs he hopes he has succeeded in making this eagle, their eagle, British, making it Brigantes. He thinks that perhaps he has succeeded in stealing this eagle back from Rome. Let them rejoice over having their golden idol back but with his marking Esca is taking it back, letting Britain shape this story, just as she is shaping both he and Marcus.

The larger man murmurs and shifts slightly and Esca rolls onto his side to look at him. Marcus sleeps soundly, a look of pure contentment on his face as his arm wraps around Esca to draw him closer. Esca has never seen him this way before. He has seen him in pain, afraid, angry and also happy, delighted when they returned the eagle, but never this way, never with this quiet, peaceful joy that radiates from him even as he sleeps. His unease and irritation slough away as he reaches a gentle hand to rest on Marcus’ arm and tuck his head against Marcus’ shoulder. There will no doubt be many arguments in the future, Esca is not an easy man and he already knows just how stubborn Marcus can be, but the warmth spreading through his chest from seeing Marcus this way assures him that they will overcome their differences, they will make a way together in this strange new Britain they inhabit.


End file.
